All I've Ever Wanted
by The13thVasilisa
Summary: After the war, Sarah, James, and Henri sort some things out, but James knows it will never really be the same. Established!Jarah, Friendship!trio, third genre could be Romance/friendship. T for language in the face of sorrow.


**Title: All I've Ever Wanted**  
**Rating: T**  
**Summary: After the war, Sarah, James, and Henri sort some things out, but James knows it will never really be the same. Jarah, Friendship!trio, third genre could be Romance/friendship.**

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**A/N: So I have my physics grades up and therefore can pay attention to this oneshot I spent most of my time on for the last two days. **

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_September 2, 1783_

James Hiller stood at the window, looking at the darkness. It would only be a day now, according to Dr. Franklin's letter. Footsteps sounded behind him—too soft to be Moses. He turned around and saw Sarah Phillips standing in the doorway of his room. His shock turned to happiness immediately, and if it had been a few days before, he would have run to her. As it was, he stayed in his chair. "You're alright! What about Henri? They wouldn't tell me anything after I woke up—"

Sarah, ignoring every comment, ran to him and threw her arms around him, whispering furiously into his ear. "James Hiller, if I ever see you put yourself in danger like that again, no matter what is happening to Henri or I, I swear to the Undivided I will personally throw you out of a window."

"I wasn't going to let you two die." Replied James. "Especially now."

"Especially now." Sarah said, softly and hollowly. He looked up, but she only smiled at him. "How's your leg?"

James shrugged, looking out at the night sky. "It won't be like it was before. But I can still walk well."

"You can't say that about everyone." Agreed Sarah. The two young people looked out the window at the stars. "When you think about it, you're quite lucky—that it didn't hit the bone. Or your heart, for the Lord's sake."

"None of us are lucky." Murmured James. Henri trailed into the room.

"Why is everyone up so late?" He muttered, annoyed. Sarah smiled wanly.

"Probably the only time you'll see a country just make itself." She remarked. "Although the treaty is being signed in Paris. But...it's still exciting."

"It didn't make itself, though." Said James bitterly. "People died to make it."

"I know." Replied Sarah quietly, perhaps thinking of her cousin. Perhaps not. "On both sides." She turned to James. "You've wanted this since I've known you. Before that." She looked at him. "Aren't you happy?"

"I'm not upset." He said. "You're right about wanting this. But—"

A thought came to him. "I was barely in and out, and I have this." He gestured to the crutch and bandage around his left calf. "What about you two?"

Sarah smiled wistfully and told him.

* * *

_September 4, 1783_

The music that sounded throughout the church was somber, and James didn't like to sing, but he did so anyway, albeit under his breath.

_At the cross her station keeping, stood the mournful mother weeping, close to Jesus at the last._

Standing near the casket stood his friends; Sarah singing softly, knowing the hymn well, while Henri barely mumbled the words. None of them had particularly splendid voices: Sarah's was sweet and a little weak; Henri mashed his words together, and James never sang above a whisper, mostly because he was only doing it to avoid nagging from Sarah.

_Through her soul, of joy bereavèd, bowed with anguish, deeply grievèd, now at length the sword hath passed._

He looked at the casket emotionlessly for a moment, then to his friends: Sarah was wearing a black dress and a mourning shawl, and Henri had been forced into his black coat, before diverting his eyes back to his hymnal.

_O that silent, ceaseless mourning, O those dim eyes, never turning..._

It started to rain outside, and thunder rumbled. The humid, strangely warm air had smelled of rain hours before, but it was little comfort. James felt like he was drowning in the sadness of the congregation, the hymn, the weather, everyone but his two friends.

He caught Sarah's eye, and she nudged Henri's hand. He wanted to get out of here, now, go home, write or read a book or sit by himself for a while. Sarah's prim and proper English manners didn't let them leave until everyone was standing around enough for them to leave without being seen. The Kyrie sounded in their ears as they emerged into the rain.

_Kyrie eleison._

* * *

_March 22, 1784_

They met each other at the graveyards—it was no surprise meeting, though. They saw each other almost every day.

It was March, but a cold northern March. A few brave flowers were peeking out, and the grass was green and the air warm, but it could never be mistaken for the summer.

James walked along the street with his friends. He was slower now because his leg was stiff, and sometimes it hurt. But that was alright. He simultaneously loved and hated summer because summertimes held such good memories that he loved and hated to remember.

He went with Sarah and Henri at the entrance to the graveyard and opened the gate, holding it like a gentleman so they could enter first. He was wearing a hat, she was wearing a white summer dress, and Henri had taken off his coat somewhere unknown.

The graves were scattered haphazardly throughout the large, grassy space, cut off by an iron wrought gate and a short brick wall. Most of the graves, especially the older ones, were short, rounded slabs of stone with fading etching. Newer or richer ones were accompanied by stone sculptures of crosses or angels, the tallest almost four feet from the ground. One or two smaller-than-average mausoleums were interspersed throughout the graveyard, and a large, dark tree was in almost the center of the place, shading the area. Roots had prevented any burials for about a five foot radius around the tree, and they took advantage of this to sit down in the shade.

Underneath the tree it was dark, and a bit too cool for the spring air that wasn't quite warm. James and Sarah sat against the black trunk of the walnut. It was smooth and as cold as the shade and the quiet. Henri sat facing away from them, sitting against James' side and hands on his knees as he watched the world go by. Sarah leaned against James, her head on his shoulder. James put his arm around Sarah, enjoying the comfort of his two best friends.

It was a few more silent minutes watching the street in front of them do nothing very interesting before he broke the quiet. "I've decided to ask Esther to marry me." He said, turning his head from side to side to gauge both of his companions' reactions.

"Mmm." Said Sarah, seemingly unperturbed. She ran her finger around one of the buttons down his shirt. "She's the tanner's daughter?"

"The blacksmith's." Said James. Henri turned onto his stomach and looked up at James.

"Will zhere be food?"

"Probably. I've never seen a wedding. I s'pose it's her job to do everything."

"Are you asking because you think we won't approve, or because you don't want us to?" Asked Sarah. "You've asked her father?"

"No. And no! Well, sort of. I never asked you two about her before, but I wanted to tell you and see how you felt." James said, a little defensively. "I was going to ask him today."

"If I said I didn't like her, would you ask her?" Sarah said carelessly. James said nothing.

"He'll say yes." Said Henri confidently, with a shrug. "Esther will too."

"Where are you asking her?" Asked Sarah, looking up from his shirt buttons to his face.

"At her house, after her father says yes. I'm invited to supper tonight."

Sarah made a motherly tsking sound. "Do you know where you'll live?"

"I figured we could live above the print shop. It's really been doing well."

"I'm not surprised. It's been your dream since childhood." Sarah shifted again so she could look at his face more fully. "She doesn't have a mother, does she?"

"No." Said James. "She died last year. Very sudden."

Henri sighed. "I don't want to talk about zis any longer. Did you know that Dr. Franklin wasn't allowed to write the Declaration of Independence because—"

"Henri, can you...give us a moment?" Asked James.

Henri, who was completely bored, needed no further invitation to leap up and leave for another spot, pulling some bread and a book out of his pocket. Sarah didn't say anything for a bit, not moving from her position with her head on James' shoulder, before she broke the ice.

"You do love her, then?"

"Um."

"That's a disappointing answer." Remarked Sarah wryly.

"Yes, then. Not all the way, but...enough."

"More than me?" Her voice was devoid of any anger, insecurity, or jealousy. She was past any of that before it even began. The question was simple and curious.

"No. But not any less, either. Just...different. She accepts that." James replied, loosely twisting a strand of her hair around his finger.

"And you'll be happy?"

"I think so. I know so, actually."

"That's good." She whispered. Something in her voice was different, but she didn't take her eyes off of Henri eating, sitting and absentmindedly turning the pages of his book. Sometimes they forgot he was seventeen. "That's good."

The lightness had gone out of James' eyes. "Sarah, please..." He said in a low voice, also watching their younger friend without a care in the world. She smiled; he knew this without seeing her. "We were so—"

"Close." She said, nodding and pulling herself off of him. Her eyes filled. She leaned against the tree for a few seconds before turning to him and kissing him gently on the lips. He pulled her closer. She looked at him sadly and got to her knees in front of him, putting his hat back onto his head, crying and laughing at the same time.

"You're happy!" She smiled widely as tears traveled down her pale face. He forced himself not to cry. Henri must have sensed something was wrong, because he took a seat next to Sarah so that both of his friends were facing the blond young man.

Their eyes, green and blue and brown, met for a second before all three looked away. Henri grabbed James' hand for a moment and grinned sadly. Her face crumpled into a smile as she let out a quiet sob. "You're happy! That's all I've ever wanted." Henri nodded.

"You're the best brother in the world, James." He didn't sound as funny as he usually did, and as Sarah cried into her hand, still smiling like she was heartbroken, he looked at his adoptive brother wistfully. "I liked working with you at the print shop, you know."

"I know." James rasped, one tear breaking the dam.

"And going on adventures with you. And Esther's alright. I hope she's a good cook." A flicker of the little boy he used to be came back into his eyes.

James smiled ruefully, breathing a laugh. "I'm sure she is."

"Be good to your wife." Said Sarah, her voice scratchy as she swiped at her cheeks. "I hope she keeps you in line."

He grabbed her hand, then Henri's, like they could stay like that forever. "I wish we could go back when it was better." He said, almost to himself. His sadness was turning to panic at the thought of their departure.

"I love you." Said Sarah, looking at him with deep concern, speaking around the lump in her throat, but the tears had stopped. His eyes shifted from her to Henri, who seemed in slightly better spirits.

"Of course I love you." Said Henri. "If I could choose my brother it would have been you."

Sarah smiled sadly again and took Henri's hand. James looked at them both for a moment, pleading.

Then he let go.

James sat and felt empty for a very long time before getting up and walking away.

* * *

_June 17, 1784_

The air was hot, even at night. The tiny misty raindrops didn't bother him.

It was finally summer.

James was probably supposed to be doing something festive the night before his wedding, but this was not what most probably had in mind. He opened the gate to the graveyard carefully and shut it silently. He didn't want anyone to hear him or see him. This was private.

He sat down in front of two of the larger headstones.

"I should have come sooner, but I couldn't think of what to say." He said quietly. "I never wanted you to leave me and you did anyway." He chuckled, slightly bitter, "just like the two of you to do whatever you wanted."

The air was still and heavy, but he didn't feel alone.

"There are lots of things that could've gone a different way, you know. I hope you don't think I'm happy about how everything turned out." He sighed. "I mean, it isn't all bad, but—"

Something overcame him at this point. He spoke in a low and furious voice. "Damn it! _Damn_ you two! We were so close to the end of it, so close, and you—" he shook his head. "We were so close!"

He buried his head in his hands for a while, then looked up. "I can't believe I could be so angry at two people who are so blameless." His mouth turned up, but he wasn't smiling, and his eyes were empty. He pulled something out of his pocket.

"I found this in the pocket of my coat the other day." He said, scooping up a mound of Earth between the two graves with his fingers. "Henri, this was your idea. And it was my ring. And Moses made it, and Sarah, it was for you, so I guess it means something to all of us. Moses is doing well. He writes all the time." He lay the gold locket inside the hole he had made: deep enough that it wouldn't come to the surface for any reason. "I guess they took it off you after..." He patted the dirt in place.

"They shouldn't have. Henri, you and I have woken Sarah in the middle of the night more than maybe we should, but I don't think you even took it off to sleep. Well, it should have gone with you, so I'm fixing that."

The rain stopped.

"I know you two are in a better place now, and I still miss you, but—" his voice broke a little, but he smiled anyway. He stood to go, standing on the place where he had buried the locket to further pat down the dirt, and took a deep breath.

"You're happy, and that's all I've ever wanted."

_Miss Sarah Edwina Katherine Philips_  
_daught. Major Edwin Phillips, Lady Deliverance Phillips_  
_August 8, 1760 - September 1, 1783, aged 23_  
_Bullet wound, skirmish in New York City, New York, August 28, 1783_  
**_The sole purpose of life is to gain merit for life in eternity._**

_Mr. Henri Richard Maurice Dutoit Lefebvre_  
_son Msr. Honorè Lefebvre, Mme. Daphne Lefebvre_  
_December 16, 1766 - September 1, 1783, aged 17_  
_Bullet wound, skirmish in New York City, New York, August 28, 1783_  
_**The joy in this life is nothing, the joy in the next life is everlasting**._

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**A/N: Mostly fighting stopped after 1782 Yorktown, but I think maybe a few small unnoticed attacks could have happened between that and the surrender of the army. In my mind, Sarah, James, and Henri were reporting in NYC and a small skirmish occurred. Just go with it, friends. Also, most gravestones then had cause of death and parents names engraved on them.**  
**Inspired by what I heard some of my friends say after a tragedy; also the beautiful confederate graveyard that is near our church.**


End file.
